


Love Will Find A Way

by LinguistLove_24



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 12:41:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11578284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinguistLove_24/pseuds/LinguistLove_24
Summary: -Set post election weeks*RE-POST





	Love Will Find A Way

“Honey? Are you all right? Should I come in?”

 

 

A faint knock followed his words and she smiled to herself, but didn't open her eyes, hardly moved a muscle. Surprisingly, the water was still quite hot, showed no signs of heading towards lukewarm. Bubbles were dissolving, though a scant amount remained, covering her lower extremities. It was unclear to her how long she'd been as such, lost to the world, blocking everything out. For several days she'd wanted to, but had commitments to uphold.

 

 

“Hmm, I'm fine. You don't have to come in,” she told him, voice sounding like it had come from someone else entirely, thickness it held resembling someone roused from deep, interrupted slumber. “Unless you want to.”

 

 

She hadn't heard footsteps retreating, added the last part because she knew he was still there. Waiting. Maybe even worried. She knew him well enough, knew he wanted to.

 

 

The door creaked slightly as he turned the knob, careful in actions of opening it, not wanting to disturb her peace. He remained still, silent, but commanded his spot in the jamb where he stood. His exact pose flitted across her mind's eye. Four decades with a person afforded you knowledge of them that you often forgot you ever knew. She knew his stances, his mannerisms and poses, better than she probably knew her own.

 

“What're you thinkin' about?”

 

 

Her eyes fluttered open as she heard him stepping slowly towards her, situating himself on the edge of the bath when he got close enough. She twirled her foot in the water, causing it to ripple. He took in her painted toes, blood red polish starting to chip; drank in as much of her as was permitted from the angle at which he sat, admired areas not shielded by bubbles.

 

 

“That's a loaded question.”

 

 

Blue met blue, orbs boring into each other. He knew she had so much on her mind, was still processing so many things. Knew too, that she chastised and blamed herself for all she could have done, all she didn't do.

 

 

“Are you okay, Hill? Really?”

 

 

A long, drawn out breath escaped her and she grazed teeth over her bottom lip. Obviously she couldn't lie to him, wouldn't even dream of trying now.

 

 

“I will be.”

 

 

“But you're not?”

 

 

“Not really.”

 

 

The way her voice cracked when she said it made his heart hurt for her all over again. He had been reason for much of her pain in years past, something he would always regret. Here, now, this kind of pain he had no way of mending, apologising for. All he wanted to do was shoulder it for her, be strong enough to love her through it.

 

“Baby, please don't cry.” Resolve breaking when he saw her gaze cast upward toward the ceiling, her swift wiping of tears not swift enough for him not to have noticed them descend, his own voice cracked.

 

 

“I feel like I failed.”

 

Sniffles escaped her as she lifted a hand that had been submerged in water, using its back to dab at her eyes and nose. Rising slightly, he stretched long, nimble fingers far enough to reach the box of tissue situated on the sink. Pulling a wad from inside it, he handed them to her wordlessly.

 

“Thank you.” She made use of them, trying not to let them stick to the residual dampness of her hands.

 

 

“You didn't fail. Not even close.”

 

 

Loss of composure to this degree was atypical for her, and witnessing it made him feel helpless. Nothing he could say would soothe the sting.

 

 

“I lost. Not just to another politician, I lost to him.”

 

 

She still wouldn't mention him by name, and he didn't entirely blame her. He wasn't ready either.

 

 

“But you fought,” he said, force laced in his usually gentle southern lilt as he blindly reached for her hand, the corners of his mouth lifting when he felt her squeeze tightly. “You fought for people the way you always do. They heard you, the right ones, the ones who needed it. You could have given up a long time ago.”

 

None of what he was saying was making him feel any better, but he hoped that it would have even a touch of the opposite affect on his wife. So badly at times did he wish she could see herself in the light that he always had done, that he still did. It would be so much easier to be as proud of herself as he was if he could take all the campaigning, the rallies, the tireless work she had done for causes she championed, and show it to her from where he stood. Watching it all play out, watching her, over and over he was reminded of how right he had gotten at least one thing in his life. Years later he still felt he didn't deserve her, but was beyond grateful she'd walked with him through everything, still chosen him.

 

 

Every bit of muddy water, every misstep had been worth it. It had led them here to this, a moment in time which both would have to accept but neither was ready for.

 

 

“I'm freezing.”

 

 

As she shuddered, he saw goosebumps start to rise up across her flesh. The water had gone completely frigid. He rose from the edge of the bath, crossing the short distance to the rack on the wall bearing fluffy, clean towels. Extending his hand, he aided her efforts to stand, taking in her naked silhouette as she stepped over the side of the tub and again before wrapping the towel round her.

 

 

“Bill?”

 

 

“Yes, honey?” Her voice was small, uncharacteristically quiet, need in the way she spoke his name. He was almost afraid of what would follow it.

 

“We're okay, right?”

 

 

A deep, audible exhale escaped him and he pulled her close as possible but not near as close as he wanted to, kissing the top of her head and inhaling the scent of freshly shampooed hair.

 

“God, yes. Yes, darlin'. Of course we are.”

 

 

Feeling her shiver again, he held tighter to her. Feeling her alive underneath his touch was enough. This was painful, unexpected. The road going forward was as uncertain as any they'd ever walked, but they both knew this was one they were walking at the same pace, step for step, together.

 

 

“Go find you some clothes before you shrivel up and freeze to death.”

 

The laugh that escaped her came from deep in her throat, a sound that hadn't rung free and true in many months and was a relief in itself.

 

 

“I love you.” She came down off the high of laughter, finding his lips with her own, forging brief, wordless connection between them as she had done so many times before. There was a sense of home in the smallest of actions, a feeling she never tired of.

 

They were still here together, difficult though recent times may have been. If this union, this life and all of its choices had taught her anything, it was love. Love would find a way.

 

 

-FIN

 


End file.
